The Edge of Forever
by M C Pehrson
Summary: "A Trek Redeux" Story #11: It is Christmastime, and Spock takes leave from the Enterprise after receiving bad news.


Though Captain Kirk had declared that their recent mission was "wrapped up", Spock knew Jim would never forget their journey through the Guardian of Forever. There in Earth's past, Jim had suffered the bitter loss of a woman he came to love, even as Spock now had to deal with a very different sort of death.

Another day aboard the _Enterprise_ was coming to an end. Postponing dinner, Spock entered his cabin for some much-needed solitude, and instead found his stepbrother in high temper.

"Dammit Spock," Doctor McCoy rose up and said by way of greeting. "Don't tell me it's too late and that a week at Sandoval's colony would 'serve no useful purpose'!"

"But the captain…"

"Has decided to give permission. So get packin' before he changes his mind."

Since the age of five, Spock had been well-acquainted with Leonard's tenacity. Any protest would lead to a futile argument, so he resigned himself and quietly said, "Very well."

Fully recovered from his recent cordrazine overdose, Leonard visibly relaxed. "Now that's more like it. A woman who's just suffered a miscarriage needs her husband at her side, especially with Christmas just around the corner. There's nothin' here that we can't handle for a few days."

Then he exited the room, leaving Spock alone to pack. For a moment Spock stood frozen by the thought of his wife's highly emotional state…and its possible effect on him when his own control was so tenuous. The son they had so anticipated was lost to them, and though Leonard did not know it, Leila was overwhelmed with guilt. In her subspace message she had tearfully blamed herself for choosing a primitive colony life that lacked the level of medicine that might have saved their child.

It was, of course, the truth. What if she pressed him on the issue? How should he answer? Would she believe that he did not hold her responsible? At present, he had not finalized his opinion on the matter. He knew only that he shared her pain and did not want to increase it. Though social interaction had never been his forte, he would have to step carefully in the coming days.

oooo

It was nearly 6:00 p.m., local time, when Spock arrived at the colony, valise in hand. Thanks to pinpoint co-ordinates, he materialized in the dusk and found himself facing a porch. A wreath comprised of decorative branches and bright-colored berries hung on the front door. Recognizing the humble cottage from Leila's pictures, he resolutely walked over and entered her unlocked home. His heart raced as he closed the door behind him and took stock of the room. Off in one corner, a single lamp cast warm yellowish light over the simplest of furnishings.

Spock's attention settled on the chair beside it, and finding it occupied by a startled child holding a book, he experienced a moment of confusion.

Had he entered the wrong house?

"Excuse me," he said. "I did not mean to intrude."

The wide-eyed girl appeared to be around seven years of age, with curly hair that glinted like copper in the lamplight.

"You're the half-Vulcan!" she blurted, and loosed a stream of chatter. "I didn't know you were coming. Leila is in her bedroom, resting. I've been helping her a lot."

Relieved, Spock replied, "Yes, I am the half-Vulcan…and I thank you for your assistance. You may go home now."

A strange look passed over the child's face. Disappointment? Her brown eyes moistening with tears, she set aside the book, rose from the chair, and wordlessly left the house.

Alone, Spock set down his valise and spared the paper book another glance. _How quaint,_ he thought, _like all of Sandoval's colony._ Several months ago, under the influence of alien spores, he had briefly understood Leila's attraction to such a life. But that was nothing more than a faded memory, like a half-forgotten dream, and now he felt some of the old resentment toward Sandoval stirring. _If not for that man and his backward ways, Leila's pregnancy might have—_

Spock stopped himself, mid-thought. Recriminations would serve no useful purpose, for despite Leila's sorrow, her mind was stubbornly set. Come what may, she would remain here among her fellow colonists. Now was not the time to revive old disagreements

Clamping down on his emotions, he went in search of his wife's bedroom. The cottage was quite small, with the shortest of hallways, down which only one door stood closed. Tapping the wood lightly, he entered.

A candle flickering by the bed revealed Leila's form as she reared up on one elbow. He had thought to surprise her by arriving unannounced, and clearly he had achieved that aim.

"Spock!" she cried with a catch in her voice. Scurrying off the bed, she rushed over and embraced him. The physical contact sent a wave of conflicting emotions crashing through Spock's mental barriers. _Joy…sorrow…remorse…_ Though he did his best to blunt their impact, the effort was not entirely successful.

"Come now," he said gently, assuming the role of comforter as he held her with one arm and stroked her golden hair. "I am here. All is well."

"But the baby…" she choked through her tears.

He could not bring himself to promise her another child. And even if, someday, that came to pass, it would never replace this lost son. But at last Leila grew calmer, and they sat side-by-side on the bed, quietly talking.

"The labor came on so suddenly," she explained. "One minute I was fine, and then…" Remembering the ordeal, she sighed. "Doctor Kratz said the baby had died a few days earlier. I'd worried about it when I felt no movement…"

Spock knew that speaking about the miscarriage was therapeutic, so he patiently listened as she retold the story in much the same words as her subspace message. He chose not to mention what she already knew—that pregnancies from interspecies unions were often difficult. That fact, together with his infrequent fertility, made any future hope of a child dim.

At last, looking up into his eyes, she changed the subject. "And what about you? Have you had any 'fascinating' adventures out in space?"

Due to security issues, he could not tell her about going back into Earth's past. And to spare her from added worries, he passed over the worst of the dangers he encountered on other missions. What remained was an essentially truthful, though somewhat mundane, rendering of the facts.

But Leila could not be so easily fooled. "The abridged version for wives and small children," she said, delivering a kiss on his lips, which he fully returned. As they parted, she sighed again. "Anya must be hungry. I'd better get us some supper."

"The girl?" Spock remarked. "I sent her home."

"Home!" Leila leapt to her feet with a troubled expression. "But Spock—this _is_ her home."

She hurried out of the room, leaving him to wonder…and follow at a less precipitous pace. He found her with the front door open, reaching for the disconsolate child huddled on the now-darkened porch.

Bringing her safely inside, Leila held the girl close as she explained to him, "This is Anya Orlov. She lost her parents soon after we arrived at this new colony. I'm her legal guardian now."

Spock remembered the Orlov family name from the colonists' manifest when they came aboard the _Enterprise_ for resettlement. "You…have never mentioned this," he said carefully.

Leila's blue eyes pleaded for understanding. "I was all alone here…and we needed one another."

There was such tenderness evident between the two that Spock chose not to take Leila's words as a reproach for his absence. Even so, this situation would require some personal adjustment. In the course of a week, he had lost one child and gained another.

"Anya," Leila spoke to her gently. "This is Spock—the husband in Starfleet I told you about."

As Anya peeked at him from Leila's motherly embrace, Spock inclined his head to the suddenly shy girl and said, "Pardon the misunderstanding. I did not realize that you live here."

Leila smiled in relief and carefully detached herself from Anya's small, clinging arms. "Well, now. Why don't you two get better acquainted while I find us something to eat?"

She retreated to the nearby kitchen. Pots and pans rattled as Spock looked steadily at Anya, and her large brown eyes timidly returned his gaze. Then abruptly she went to the lamp table and retrieved the book she had been perusing when Spock arrived.

Holding it out to him, she asked, "Will you read it to me? Please?"

Spock noticed the book's title, and his eyebrow climbed. _The Tale of Peter Rabbit_ was one that his mother had secretly read to him from her padd before they escaped his controlling Vulcan father and fled to Earth. But Spock was now a grown man, and having never before read to a child, he experienced some hesitation until his thoughts turned to Leila and her need for his support, even in a matter as small as this.

Taking the book, he settled into the lamp-side chair, and Anya perched on its upholstered arm. A pleasant flowery scent enveloped him when she leaned closer, her coppery curls brushing his cheek.

He cleared his throat. And opening the book to its first whimsically illustrated page, he began, "Once upon a time there were four little rabbits…"

oooo

The next morning, Spock awoke in his wife's bed, her arm snugged around him as she slept peacefully. Pale light filtered through the window curtains. In the stillness of dawn he heard leaves rustling in a light breeze, a strange animal howling in the distance, and many birdlike twitters.

Suddenly the windows went dark, and a sharp gust of wind buffeted the little cottage. Spock heard a thump outside their bedroom door. Then small feet pattered down the hallway.

Anya was up.

By the time Spock and Leila joined her, the wind had grown into a steady gale, thunder crashed, and rain poured down relentlessly. Far from being afraid, Anya peered out at the maelstrom with such excitement that she could scarcely be persuaded to eat breakfast.

The morning seemed unnaturally long in the stormbound cottage. Anya yearned to go outside, Leila was concerned about the colony's crops, and Spock was accustomed to structured days in a highly technical environment. But even with the unexpected child in their midst, Spock was glad to be back with his wife. His interest stirred when she brought out a digital botany log and showed him images of the native plants she had recorded, complete scientific analysis.

"Not paper and pen?" he remarked, one brow rising.

She gave a crooked smile and poked him in the ribs. "We're not quite as primitive as you think, mister."

As noon approached, there was one final, violent cloudburst before the wind subsided and the sun broke out. Anya darted onto the porch to view her waterlogged world, and was soon back begging for a picnic.

"How about it?" Leila asked Spock. "We can pack a simple lunch, look over the fields, and head to the staff building. After a storm like this, Elias will be expecting me to check in."

Spock did not care a whit about Mr. Sandoval's expectations, but Leila clearly felt obligated to the colony's leader. "Very well," he said with a faint, unconvincing smile.

In a matter of minutes they donned jackets and departed, Anya happily skipping down the soggy paths, and Spock bearing a cloth tote filled with sandwiches and native fruit. Leila's botany padd dangled from her shoulder strap as she reached for his free hand. The physical contact with his wife brought a deep sense of harmony that Spock welcomed. It was indeed a fine day, despite the widespread evidence of storm damage. As Leila pointed out, the ruts would soon be repaired and the broken tree limbs converted into firewood. And the hardier crops had not suffered greatly.

Cumulus clouds were drifting in the blue Earthlike sky when they came upon a swollen river, roiling with muddy runoff. Leila led them to her favorite spot—a bluff at the water's edge where a fallen log served as a damp but utilitarian seat while they ate their lunch.

When they were done, she stood and said, "Well, on to the—"

Her sentence ended in a shriek as Spock saw the ground beneath her start to collapse.

Then the entire bluff gave way. In a cascade of dirt and rocks, all three of them plunged approximately seven meters into the river.

The water closed over Spock's head. In that instant of icy shock, he felt the weight of his clothes dragging him ever deeper into the fierce current. Though death seemed a distinct possibility, concern for Leila's safety overshadowed his own survival instinct. Logic as a motivator had faded away to nothing; it was love alone that mattered now.

Lungs burning for oxygen, he shrugged out of his sodden jacket, tore off his boots, and swam hard toward the surface. He emerged. Gulping great breaths of air, he struggled to stay afloat as he glanced around. The river churned with debris. Several meters to his left, Anya swept along, barely clinging to the log they had sat upon before the bank collapsed. On his right and just out of reach, Leila floundered in the treacherous waters.

Relieved, he started toward her.

"No!" she shouted. "Get Anya!"

Ignoring her plea, he struggled on, but seemed no closer than he had before.

"Go!" Leila screamed.

The weight of decision struck the pit of Spock's stomach. At that wrenching instant came a fresh understanding of Jim Kirk's painful dilemma over Edith Keeler. Save Leila, and little Anya would almost certainly drown. But do as Leila bid, attempt to save the child, and he would risk losing his beloved wife.

Spock paused in his efforts to reach her. A wordless prayer rose from his soul as their eyes met over the rushing water. Then acting against every instinct, he turned from her and swam away. The torrent pushed him around a bend. Now far ahead, he saw the child's red coat bobbing alongside the log. Through strenuous effort, he gradually closed the distance until he could nearly touch her.

It was then that she lost her grip. As the log swirled away, he somehow managed to catch Anya by the hair and draw her into a rescue hold learned at Starfleet Academy. The panicky girl cried out in fear and struggled to free herself. Maintaining a firm grip, Spock fought to keep their heads above water and gradually worked his way to the nearest riverbank.

His Vulcan body was not designed for the cold; he felt its effects draining him and his movements growing sluggish. He slammed into a boulder, peeled off, and swept into a broad eddy. Here, at last, was an opportunity. There was little time to calculate as the current sent him and the frightened child swirling toward a beckoning shore. At the most opportune instant, he gathered his remaining strength, swam free of the eddy, and latched onto a fallen tree. Little by little he worked his way along the trunk until his feet touched bottom. Now it was only a matter of dragging Anya and himself clear of the raging water. Chilled to the bone and nearly exhausted by his efforts, he emerged onto a safe patch of ground.

Spock dropped down on the thick wet grass, with the shivering child beside him.

Anya succumbed to a fit of coughing, then began to sob. "Where's Leila? She's dead, isn't she? Leila's dead, just like my mom and dad!"

Spock had no answer. He found himself shaking with chills and an aching emptiness that was soul-deep. _Was it ordinary grief or something more?_ He had studied about the connection between Vulcan bondmates and the pain that death brought to a surviving spouse. But Leila was not Vulcan, and he only half. _Would he know if she were dying? If she were already dead?_

Though his thought processes were dulled by hypothermia, of one thing he was certain. He must alert the colony to Leila's plight and get Anya some form of medical attention. Raising up on one elbow, he numbly stared at the roaring river and felt the chill breeze wicking the last vestiges of heat from his desert-bred body.

He was vaguely aware of Anya tugging at his sodden shirt and crying, "Spock, where is she? Where is she? You have to find her!"

The tearful plea brought him fully to his senses, and he rose by stages to his feet. He was reaching for Anya, intending to carry the child, when he heard a second voice.

"Hello!" the man shouted above the water's roar. "Hello, there! Are you alright?"

oooo

An incongruous sound of Christmas carols drifted through the small infirmary. Elias Sandoval stood beside the narrow bed where Spock sat, under protest, while Doctor Kratz finished bandaging a forearm gash and then waved a rudimentary medscanner over his vitals yet again.

"Lungs still seem clear," Kratz pronounced at last, straightening. "You and Anya were both fortunate."

"Indeed." Spock stood abruptly. Clothed in dry garments and feeling considerably warmer, he intended to join in the search for his missing wife. "Leila may have reached the far bank of the river. Where is your southernmost bridge?"

"We have but one bridge," Sandoval said mildly. "I assure you, we are doing our utmost—"

"Your 'utmost'?" Spock made little attempt to moderate his irritation. "If you had even the simplest of tricorders, she could easily be found."

"We have no need for such devices here," came an impossibly bland response.

Spock's temper flared. "My unborn son had a need for modern devices. And even as we speak, Leila could be lying somewhere along the river, seriously injured."

A maddening hint of a smile stirred Sandoval's lips. "Mr. Grayson, do calm yourself."

The patronizing words only served to intensify Spock's anger. He was far from calm as his fists clenched and he stepped up to the colony's leader. At that moment a different song began to play, and the irony of its words knifed his heart.

"I'll be home for Christmas…you can plan on me…"

If he had _not_ come home, if he had _not_ followed his stepbrother's advice, there might never have been a fateful picnic. In casting blame, he knew he would forever include himself, and bitterly hate that sentimental song from this day forward.

All this came to him in an instant, and he concluded—far from the first time—that perhaps the Vulcans were correct, and life was best lived without the disabling effects of emotion.

But as the song continued to play, it summoned a distant, pleasing memory of his first Christmas in Georgia. _A pine-scented tree stood almost seven feet tall. His new stepfather, David McCoy, was lifting him in order to place a shiny angel at its very top. The touch of the human's hands brought a warm, delightful influx of paternal love…_

Now, a disturbance at the infirmary door drew his attention. An excited group of colonists entered with a bedraggled young woman huddled in a red blanket. On her own two feet. _Walking!_

Casting aside all thought of emotional restraint, Spock rushed over to Leila and caught her in his grateful arms.

oooo

All was dark and cold beyond the cottage, but it was comfortable inside. Christmas Eve had arrived. Following a supper of hearty soup and warm bread, Spock sat in the armchair, content to simply watch the holiday proceedings. He could scarcely take his eyes off the lovely wife he had come so close to losing. Leila smiled broadly, glowing with health as she and Anya placed the last homemade ornaments on a pine-like tree that reached almost to the ceiling.

At last she stood back and viewed it with less than full satisfaction. "I don't know," she mused, hands on her shapely hips. "Something's missing…"

"Perhaps when the gifts are arranged under it," Spock suggested. For his part, he had brought small, colorfully wrapped offerings from Leonard and Captain Kirk. And of course his own gift for Leila—a beaded necklace of the simple sort she favored. Having been unaware of Anya's existence, he had not come prepared, but had since found some cleverly-fashioned toys in a colony store—hinged nutshells with tiny doll houses inside.

Suddenly Anya exclaimed, "The star for the top! The one I made at school!"

Off to her room she dashed, and soon returned bearing a somewhat lopsided Star of… _David_.

Deep within Spock, there stirred that same warm memory of a Georgia Christmas with David McCoy. Leila was reaching for a wooden chair to stand on when he rose and said, "No need for that. Allow me…"

Taking hold of Anya, he gently lifted the child toward the treetop, and the star settled into place.

oooOOooo


End file.
